Fixing It
by DalekCyberAngel
Summary: Sherlock is now a Time Lord, he's back to his Time Lord self, but living as Sherlock Holmes for thirty-six years has made its changes. It's amazingly tense and awkward inside the TARDIS. The Doctor is struggling to cope with the personality change in his friend, John isn't handling the sudden change in his best friend and life too well. Can it all be fixed?
1. Chapter 1

AN: Here's the sequel! I'm sorry it took so long, life, headaches, and other stories got in the way.

Also, my writing style has changed. I seem to be writing in present tense instead of past tense. I hope this doesn't bother you too much

* * *

By the time The Doctor reaches the TARDIS, Lockie is practically asleep in his arms. He has tried to keep the younger man awake, but that has proven to get harder and harder as they got closer and closer. By the time they enter the TARDIS, Lockie's arms are slack, his head is now resting on The Doctor's shoulder, and his entire body is limp. The Doctor shifts his hold on Lockie, lifting him up higher and tightening his grasp. He grunts.

"You're heavier than I remember." The Doctor said, "Sherlock must have put on weight for you." The Doctor smiles fondly at the upcoming memory of one of their many playful kitchen arguments.

The Doctor walks forward, half carrying, half dragging the man beside him. He stops by the console, gently lowering his friend onto the seat, adjusting him slightly so he doesn't fall off. Looking back towards the console, he wonders briefly if he should get the TARDIS moving, it wouldn't do to keep it in London where it might attract stray people. He's had stray companions before, he's not too sure if he wants another. He turns back to Lockie.

"If this doesn't wake you up, you're sleeping there for the night." The Doctor said as he turns to fiddle with the console. Once the TARDIS Rotor starts moving he turns towards Lockie, smirking at the sight.

Lockie who was sleeping peacefully with his legs stretched out before him, his chin resting against his chest and his arms across his stomach, has now bolted upright in his seat, his eyes wide, his breathing coming quickly, and his shoulders tense. The Doctor, finding the sight highly amusing, then starts laughing. Lockie scowls at him when he realises what's actually happening.

"I'll get you for that." He says, his voice low and threatening but with a light tease to it.

"Like you did with the toaster?"

"Worse than the toaster incident."

The Doctor gives a slight moan as protest, "I'm not going to carry you to bed, Lockie. I needed to wake you up." The Doctor replies trying to defend himself.

"You couldn't have poked me?"

The Doctor looks to the side and agrees, "Yeah, I could have done. But this was more fun." He quickly adds.

Lockie glares at him; the glare is then ruined as he raises his hand to yawn.

The Doctor frowned and his eyes narrow. "Go on, Lockie," He says softly, "Sherlock pushed himself beyond his limit and the change was exhausting for you. Go to bed."

Lockie nods and raises a hand to rub at his eyes, he stands up slowly. "She hasn't moved it, has she?" He asks glancing at the console uncertainly with one eye as his hand rubs at the other.

The Doctor shakes his head, "No, it's still in the same place. Now go." The Doctor finishes sternly.

"I am. I am." Lockie says through a yawn as he turns to walk away.

The Doctor watches with a satisfied smile as Lockie leaves the console room; hopefully Lockie will make it to his bedroom and not fall asleep on the floor. He's done that before, that is certain. They both have actually. One time they fell asleep together on the floor. That was a very… compromising position, not to mention they had companions with mobile phones at the time. Those pictures haunted them for weeks. Lockie should make it. Hopefully. He isn't going to carry him to it. But he will put a pillow under his head and cover him with a blanket.

* * *

The Doctor turns when he hears the door of the kitchen open and frowns slightly at the sight. "Did you sleep in your clothes last night?" He asks when his friend walks in.

"I was tired." Lockie replies to defend himself.

The Doctor smirks at the sight. Lockie's, well Sherlock's, clothes are rumpled and a mess, part of it is tucked into his trousers, his collar is half up and the other half is down, several buttons have come undone and the sleeve of an arm has ridden up. When he looks down he sees that Lockie has lost a sock somewhere along the way. Lockie's hand is now trying to flatten his wild curls, while the other is opening the cupboards searching for something. The Doctor picks up his cup from the table and drinks from it, swallowing several mouthfuls of tea before putting it back down.

"What are you looking for?" He asks noticing that Lockie's looking through a lot of cupboards.

"Coffee." Lockie says, kneeling down to open a different cupboard.

"But you don't drink coffee." The Doctor replies his eyebrows knitting together.

Lockie pauses and looks up at him. "I don't?" Lockie says confused, "Must have been Sherlock."

The Doctor nods looking away from Lockie and down at his cup, hopefully it is only simple little things that have changed Lockie and not the major aspects of his personality. Liking coffee is fine, everyone's preferences change. He used to like those little M&M sweets a previous companion once brought onto the TARDIS, now he prefers those Milky Star sweets a little boy had given him a few weeks ago. Earth sweets, as sugary and teeth rotting as they are, they do taste quite nice. He wonders briefly what has happened to his previous packet; last thing he remembers is that he put them in the fridge before dashing off to visit Harlasterof. They must still be in the fridge.

A groan of frustration leaves Lockie's mouth and he gives up trying to flatten his curls down, instead he chooses to move the curls from his eyes and leave the room. The Doctor watches him leave, a sad look forming on his face. His friend has changed, and it is going to take some time to get used to it. The Doctor sighs. _It'll be just like regenerating_, he thinks to himself, _it's the same man with a few changes made to his personality. Nothing else, nothing major. He's still the same man. He is still the same man_; The Doctor repeats to himself, he shouldn't doubt for a second that Lockie is completely different. That he isn't the same person.

The Doctor finishes the drink in his cup and makes his way towards the console room, maybe he should let the TARDIS choose where they next go to, they need to go somewhere calm first, and most of the places he chooses are always in danger. Though, the TARDIS isn't much better herself at choosing places. He strokes the console fondly.

"Where shall we go now?" He whispers softly.

The TARDIS doesn't respond, he doesn't expect it to either, that was more a question to himself than anything else. He starts to think of where they should go. The Doctor contemplates this as he dashes around the console, thinking of all the places they've been to and all of they could go to. There are so many! The Doctor couldn't simply pick one! The TARDIS would take him where he needs to go, but it's not always guaranteed that the place is safe. It's not always fun when it's safe, it's rather dull at times. But it's not always fun when it's dangerous, it can get rather stressful and frightening at times.

What about Starnoff? That was a calm planet with a lot colours, could do with toning themselves down a bit as all the bright colours have been known to cause headaches. Well, headaches in those who are sensitive. Best not to go there then.

"What about Dimalongethon?" A voice asks.

The Doctor turns to find Lockie shifting uncomfortably on his feet – bare feet. He's standing by the double doors that lead into the hallway, his hair's wet, the top of his shirt is damp from his hair and he seems uncomfortable in the clothes he's wearing. He's wearing a dark blue t-shirt, but a red shirt over it that is currently unbuttoned as if he isn't too sure which one he wants to wear, he's wearing dark blue trousers to match the t-shirt, he's holding a suit jacket in his left hand, one black shoe and one red converse shoe in his right hand.

"You're not wearing anything on your feet." He says.

"Obviously." Lockie replies arrogantly. He tosses the shoes carelessly to the side.

"Why not?"

Lockie's gaze moves from The Doctor to his feet and then the suit jacket. "I wasn't too sure what to wear." He says quietly, "Some part of me wants to wear those shoes I was in last night, but the other is telling me to go back to those shoes I wear."

"Why not wear both?" The Doctor suggests, smiling widely.

Lockie looks up at him, an expression on his face indicating how ludicrous he believes the idea to be.

"Okay," The Doctor says awkwardly, "just wear the Converse shoes."

Lockie looks thoughtfully down at the shoes before quickly striding away.

The Doctor stares at the shoes for a moment, hating the feeling bubbling up in his chest, and turns around to play with console.

* * *

John wakes with a groan; he must have slept awkwardly last night if the pain in his neck is anything to go by. He sits up slowly, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck as he tries to wake himself up. Too much happened yesterday, he didn't get much sleep because of it, he just wants to continue sleeping. He looks down at the clock on his bedside table, the little red digits currently telling him that it is nine twenty-six. John sighs, no point going back to sleep, most of the morning has been wasted already and it's not like he can fall asleep at this time if he tried. Forcing himself out of bed, he walks downstairs to make himself a cup of tea. As he fills the kettle up, he briefly wonders why Sherlock isn't around, it isn't like Sherlock to still be asleep at this time, despite how tired he was last night he is usually around somewhere.

His shoulders sag and he drops his head slightly when he remembers. A feeling of sadness wells up inside him. He was too tired last night to realise, but now though, now he's awake and he can think properly.

He doesn't have a best friend. Not anymore. His best friend is gone, replaced by some different man that looks the same but acts differently. It's almost as if his best friend is dead. John shakes his head. He refuses to think about that, he can't go think about that, he can't go through that, not again.

He blinks hard, suddenly becoming aware that he's overfilled the kettle, quickly turning the tap off and pouring some water out, he turns around to places the kettle on its stand and turning it on. At that moment, Lestrade stands by the door.

"Sleep well?" He asks.

"Could have been better." John replies, yawning a little after.

"I agree with you there." Greg says with a wince, a hand going to rub at the bottom of his back.

John sees the movement and frowns, "You could have slept in Sherlock's bed."

Greg shakes his head, "Not after the countless experiments Sherlock does on it."

John chuckles softly, "Want some tea?" He asks, pulling his own mug from the cupboard.

"Just coffee, thanks."

There's an awkward moment of silence in the room as John prepares the drinks, he refuses to let his mind stray away to those thoughts, he can't go through that. Not again.

"I still have questions." Greg says as an attempt to break the silence. "They didn't really explain much."

"What questions?" John asks, truthfully, he still has questions himself.

"Well, they said who they are, they said what they are, and they said they go on adventures, but they didn't explain the important, less obvious questions." Greg explains.

John sighs softly, "There's just so much to ask, I don't even know where to start. When do you think they'll be back?" John asks as he pours the water into the mugs.

"I don't know. It doesn't appear that The Doctor is very good at timing, could be tomorrow, could be in two weeks."

John passes a mug to Greg who takes it with a nod of thanks. As he raises his mug to drink from, he pauses moments before. "What are we going to tell Mrs. Hudson? You know he's like a son to her."

Greg swallows his coffee before replying, "That he's on a case?"

"But he'll be gone for a long time." He points out.

"Yes, but this is something that Sher... I mean, Lockie, needs to explain himself. If he's got Sherlock's memories, then he should be aware of their relationship."

"If I knew this was going to happen, I never would have let that man get to Sherlock."

John drinks from his mug and walks out of the kitchen, his life feeling like a complete mess right now.

* * *

AN: Expect Chapter two to be uploaded on Saturday, I'm back to my weekend updates, especially now that I'm back at College which gets in my way.

I hope you enjoyed this. Have a nice day :)

~Steffii


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you quite finished yet?" The Doctor huffs impatiently from his position outside Lockie's bedroom. "You're taking longer than some of our old female companions with their outfits and their make-up."

The dark wooden door flies open and Lockie glares at Siggy. "Never make that comparison again."

"Then stop taking so long." The Doctor grumbles. He wants to get moving, staying still for so long is just so boring! He needs to go and visit a few planets, create some havoc, and then accidentally become some part of history. He looks Lockie up and down. The younger man took a while, but he's finally settled on some clothes – a red shirt with its first few buttons undone revealing a black t-shirt underneath, a black suit jacket over them that The Doctor knows belongs to Sherlock, loose black jeans, and red converse shoes that The Doctor knows once belonged to his previous body – it isn't Lockie's usual attire, he certainly hopes that it's only temporary as the younger man gets used to being himself.

"Then tell me where it is!" Lockie demands

"Where what is?"

"You gave Sherlock my coat." Lockie replies sounding somewhat annoyed, "My sonic is always in my coat, where did you put it?"

"Lockie, if you look properly," The Doctor says walking into the messy room, "you will learn that it is in here." He treads carefully around the room, being sure not to stand on the clothes, drawers, and various gadgets lying all over the floor. He stops by a wardrobe and stands on his toes as he picks up a small wooden box from the top of it. "I placed it in here, where you place all your special things." He hands the box to Lockie and walks out of the room as careful as before, he doesn't wish to be moaned at for standing on Lockie's things, goodness knows the other man hates it when his things are stood on and touched. He doesn't remember Lockie being so... demanding? He isn't too sure what the word is, but he knows Lockie wasn't like that much before.

After what feels like a long time but is actually eleven minutes, The Doctor has the TARDIS moving, with both himself and Lockie clinging onto the console to stay upright. A huge smile is on both their faces as the TARDIS jerks once more, sending both occupants onto the floor.

"Oh, I've missed this." Lockie gasps out.

The Doctor grins wider and nods. They lie on the TARDIS floor for a while as they try to get the breath back.

"Where have we landed?" Lockie asks, moving from his back to his knees.

"That's the good thing." The Doctor replies, "I don't know."

"You used the randomiser again?" Lockie ask as he stands

"Yes, there isn't much fun in knowing where you're going."

Lockie points to the door, "And if we go outside, we won't know where we are?"

"Not unless we check the scanner." The Doctor replies. Lockie is very quickly reminding him of a new companion, he isn't too sure he likes it.

Lockie nods and turns, coat turning swiftly with him, "Come on now, Sigs! You don't want to miss it!" He calls excitedly as he walks quickly towards the doors.

"Did you just give a nickname a nickname, followed by another nickname to then give that a nickname?" The Doctor asks as he heads towards the doors.

"Of course." Lockie says with a smirk.

"Don't do that again." Siggy replies playfully pointing a finger.

"Spoilsport." Lockie grumbles.

Without a further comment, Siggy walks out of the TARDIS, leaving Lockie to follow behind him.

"It's not like you haven't given my nickname a nickname." Lockie argues as he walks out.

Siggy smirks and turns to look at him, "Yes, but I'm allowed to do that."

"And why is that?" Lockie asks as he closes the TARDIS doors.

"Because I'm older." The Doctor replies playfully.

Lockie rolls his eyes and turns to face him, "That's not a proper reason."

The Doctor laughs softly vaguely becoming aware that they're arguing like children. "But it's true." He turns around to walk away but doesn't make any attempt to move as he takes in his surroundings. "Well," The Doctor says, "this is new."

Lockie looks around and takes a step forward. The room is cube shaped, roughly nine feet long, nine feet wide, and nine feet tall. There's no colour, everything's all silver and shiny, he can see his reflection in the walls, ceiling, and floor. He doesn't remember being in a room like this before. There's nothing else, no door, no window, nothing. But there has to be a door somewhere, even if it does blend in with the walls.

"Siggy, can we not just move the TARDIS?" He asks as he wanders around the small space.

"Lockie, where is the fun in that?" The Doctor replies disapproval clear in his voice as he knocks against the wall furthest to the right. Siggy places leans up against the wall and knocks again, a low thud echoes from it.

Lockie shakes his head and studies the wall on the far left closely. Nothing. Nothing but his own reflection. He moves down the wall slowly, seeing nothing but his own reflection. He stops focusing on the wall and starts to look at his reflection, he didn't pay much attention to his reflection earlier after his shower, but now he can't stop noticing it. Sherlock did change him – his cheekbones are more prominent, his complexion is paler, his curls are longer and barely reaching his shoulders, and he doesn't fill his coat out as much either. He glances over at Siggy, the older man's still knocking against the wall, he knows the older man must have noticed something; he has to have noticed something different. He looks from his friend to his reflection, something doesn't feel right anymore, now that he's noticed appearance it feels... different, strange, not how it should. The final thought makes him scoff. He's a Time Lord, he's used to changing his physical appearance, it's something that happens when he's about to die, he does it to survive. Now should be no different. A few minor adaptions without his consent should be no different to regenerating to survive.

But it is. Someone else was in his body. They intentionally made those changes without his consent. Anger boils up inside him, but he isn't too sure who it's directed at – Sherlock for making the changes or himself for hiding away inside the fob watch and letting someone else take control. He shudders and forces himself to focus on finding a door, he can think more about the incident later on, finding a door is top priority and far more important than his conflicting emotions and thoughts.

_'Lockie, is everything okay?' _Siggy asks sounding worried.

Lockie looks down the wall and notices Siggy's reflection; he's still deeply engrossed in knocking against the wall.

_'Everything's fine, Siggy.'_

_'Are you sure, Lockie?' _He asks sounding really concerned.

_'Quit worrying, Sig.' _Lockie replies, trying not to focus on how his friend sounds.

_'What did I tell you about giving the nickname another one?'_

_'That I can do it as many times as I wish.' _Lockie replies smirking.

_'Cheeky.'_

Moving to the right, Lockie focuses his attention back onto the wall. He notices it rather quickly, a faint grey outline roughly the size and shape of a door. Lockie traces the outline with his fingers, definitely a door of some sort. He looks it up and down and places his hands on the wall, just inside the lines and opposite each other where he believes the handle would be and pushes against the wall. The wall unexpectedly slides open rapidly, taken by surprise; Lockie falls through the open space and lands on the ground with a hard thud.

"Still so clumsy." He hears The Doctor chuckle.

His cheeks flush with embarrassment and he quickly stands up. He ignores the statement, straightens out his clothes, he looks around the area. There isn't much to see, but Lockie feels himself smile. He standing on the top of a hill, grass and trees are all he can see, blue grass continues for miles, green trees with blue leaves follow straight after it. He looks up and sees a purple sky with no clouds and a deep red sun.

The Doctor stands beside him, a soft and satisfied smile sits on his face as he watches Lockie's face brighten up. He's missed his friend so much, he never realised how much he likes seeing this look until he went eighty-four years without him. The Doctor watches Lockie for a moment longer before turning around to focus on what they just stepped out from.

A cube. A silver cube roughly the same size and shape at the room they stepped out of. The Doctor walks around the cube, no markings, no strange aspects to it, nothing. It is literally just a cube with a door on it. But why would there be a door if it's just a cube? The Doctor pulls out his sonic screwdriver and points it at the cube.

"Now that's interesting," He says to himself, "it's a cube, literally just a cube. It doesn't have anything nor does it do anything." The Doctor puts his sonic screwdriver back into his pocket, "But what is a cube doing here?"

"It's been here for a while." Lockie comments and points to the grass surrounding it, "Look at the grass, it's been flattened and the most of it is dead. It's been here for quite a while, Siggy."

The Doctor nods, "Why is it here though?"

"Isn't that something we should find out?"

"Yes it is, Lockie, but we need to find out where we are first."

The Doctor turns in a full circle in his spot as he decides what direction they should go in, he soon decides on going left.

"That way." He says pointing his finger.

"Shouldn't we move the TARDIS first?" Lockie asks, "We don't know what that cube will do, we don't want anything to happen to her."

The Doctor looks at him, he's prepared to walk away but realises that it really isn't a good idea to leave the TARDIS in a cube where it's unknown as to what it does and why it's there. He walks inside the cube and moves the TARDIS so that it is now outside the cube, only six inches away from it. The Doctor turns in a full circle on the spot before deciding to walk in an opposite direction to before. Lockie walks slowly behind him, the younger man more interested in looking at the world around them than anything else.

"What exactly are we doing today?" Lockie suddenly asks.

The Doctor turns to look at him, slightly surprised by the unexpected question. "First we're going to find out why a cube is in the middle of a field of grass." The Doctor answers, "Then we are going to do what we usually do, which is something not even I can predict."

Lockie nods and speeds up so he can walk alongside The Doctor instead of behind him. "And if we get into trouble?"

"We'll set it right, continue or do something else." The Doctor says, frowning as he looks at Lockie from the corner of his eye. "Why are you asking, Lockie?" It's not something Lockie's ever done before, he normally just goes with the flow, depending on what it is, but he doesn't normally question what they're doing when it's fairly obvious.

Lockie hesitates before he answers, "I needed to know."

"You've never needed to before." The Doctor replies. He remembers that being one of Sherlock's traits, he'd always needed to know what was going on.

"Well now I do." Lockie mumbles.

The Doctor looks at him, Lockie isn't looking at him, he's looking down at the grass, clearly nervous about something. He opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it when he feels something poke his chest. Looking away from Lockie he looks ahead. They had failed to notice that large gathering circling them and all pointing their arrows at the pair. "Well, that was unexpected." The Doctor says taking a step back from the arrow but then poking the tip with his finger, pulling it back quickly with a small, "Ow."

* * *

Lestrade sighs and puts his mug down on his desk. He really has no idea how to fill out the paperwork on the recent case. How exactly is he supposed to explain that the murderer isn't human, and that the murderer is actually some alien hell bent on destroying Earth but then some other man that turned out to not be human put a stop to it and sent that alien to alien prison? He can't put that in the paperwork, not unless he has intentions of losing his job and getting locked up in some psych ward. He can't exactly call it a cold case, it's far too early and they do have quite a bit of evidence suggesting who the murderer is. He isn't going to sabotage the evidence either, that is far too risky. Lestrade runs a hand through his hair, maybe, if he doesn't get caught, he can wait just long enough for the case to be called a cold one. It'll only be a few more days until that can happen, he most certainly hopes he can do that.

He looks down at his watch, it's only three-fifteen in the afternoon, it makes him wonder what Sherlock is doing. Yes, it's Sherlock, he's not too sure he can call him by his other name yet, even though he was last night. If he's to have Sherlock's memories and personality, then Lestrade can call him Sherlock until they actually meet up again. It's not like he'll ever know. He wonders where the pair are – if they're on Earth or if they're on a different planet. He wonders if they're having a normal time or if they're causing more trouble, which, if he remembers correctly from the journal, the latter sounds far more likely than the former. Lestrade hopes they return soon, he wants to know how they're getting on, with Sherlock's personality mixed in with Lockie's; Lestrade would hazard a guess that they've already had several arguments. Goodness knows Sherlock can't meet someone without having at least one argument with them during the day.

He looks back at the paperwork, he sighs as it slowly dawns on him that he won't be receiving Sherlock's help. His stomach hits the floor. Sherlock won't be helping him with the more troubling cases. Sure he managed just fine on his own before Sherlock and after Sherlock's fall, but there were always more cases gone cold and more murders then than when he did have Sherlock's help. But Sherlock isn't here anymore. And he's going to try his hardest to solve the more troubling cases quicker than before.

A knock on the door drags him away from his thoughts. He looks up to see Donovan standing in the doorway.

"Anderson's found something unusual during his forensic exam, sir." She says as she walks in, a small file report in her hands.

"And what's that?" He asks, holding a hand out to take the file.

"The weapon that killed the victim isn't identifiable." She says, "Anderson's ran it through all the records, the metal isn't identifiable."

Lestrade's shoulders dropped. How is he supposed to explain this without sounding insane?

"Are you sure he's tried them all?" He asks as he reads through the report, Anderson may have missed one, everybody does it.

"Yes," She replies almost sounding annoyed, "he's run through them three times to make sure. It isn't in the records."

"Can he not just look for, I don't know, other metals that make up this metal?" Lestrade suggests.

"It would have shown up."

"Well, tell him to give it a try." Lestrade replies handing the file back to her.

Lestrade looks down at his hands and groans, this just got really complicated.

* * *

AN: I hope you enjoyed this, have a nice day! :)

~Steffii


End file.
